


Jagged Little Thrill

by FoxCollector



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad dreams vs Cody's dirty dirty thoughts, Cody has terrible dreams, Dark, Implied Violence, KInda sad i guess, M/M, Mentions of Rex, Nothing is really explicit in here, Pining, but Cody just wants one night with Obi-Wan, but also Cody wants, implied/imagined character death, is that so wrong?, kinda hints at Order 66, one-sided Cody/Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: It’s not the first time he’s had the dream, but it is the first time he’s had it right next to Obi-Wan.Cody isn’t supposed to think these things at all. He’s supposed to be focused on battle, on the task at hand, on the next move, on his brothers in arms, on victory.But sometimes the task at hand is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Cody lets his thoughts stray dangerously.Or, Cody sometimes has terrible dreams, and sometimes he thinks about Obi-Wan.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 132





	Jagged Little Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to get into Cody's head for a different story, and I just finished the arc where Fives finds the chips, and was thinking about the implications of Tup's line about the dreams and the mission.... and then, well this happened. 
> 
> It's kind of sadder than I wanted, so who knows, maybe I'll fix that and give my boys a happy ending.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Blood.

There is so much blood and Cody can feel that it has soaked through his gloves and through his skin. His hands are slippery with it. It stains his armour and blots out the vibrant orange of the 212th.

Beneath him, the ground runs with it and the dirt sucks him in, keeping him stuck in place. But even without it he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Above him, the sky is blue and endless. Empty and blank.

His own heart pounds in his ears, a low, rapid thrum like a mantra, repeating itself over and over and blocking out all other noise. He wants it to stop.

His breath catches in his throat.

It’s a dream.

He knows it.

He _knows_ it. Because he’s had this dream before, and he knows what comes next.

He knows what he will see beneath his hands, and he knows that only when he looks will he be able to wake up.

And he needs to wake up, because he can’t bear to see what he’s done. It’s a paradox, really. But he’s been through this before, and he knows the only way out is to see that he has completed his mission, only then will he be released. Good soldiers follow orders.

He braces himself for the sight that always undoes him, and moves his hands so he can see what’s left of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Not much.

Not enough.

The dreams have been getting more violent. _He’s_ been getting more violent.

There’s so much red –

There’s so many broken bones, and so much broken skin –

He makes himself sick with it.

If he didn’t know what this was, he would never have recognized the body in front of him. That’s what he’s done. This is what he’s capable of.

He wakes with a start, and rolls onto his side, retching. There’s red painted behind his eyelids, and constellations of broken bones beneath his fists.

“Cody.” There’s a soothing hand on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan’s voice pitched low. “Are you alright?”

He swats backwards vaguely, trying to wordlessly tell Obi-Wan he wants him to leave him alone. It doesn’t work, exactly. Obi-Wan draws his hand back, but Cody can still feel him sitting at his side.

It makes shame spark up his spine.

If Obi-Wan knew why, if he knew what was wrong with him… Cody lets himself imagine the betrayal, the way his general would recoil, the hurt in his eyes. The disgust.

Yes, Obi-Wan should be disgusted with him.

He makes himself sit up.

“I’m fine, sir,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan makes a noise that is clearly a disagreement, and he says something that Cody can't hear over the echo of his own thoughts.

Cody can’t bring himself to look at Obi-Wan. He doesn’t want to see the way what he’s done will eclipse Obi-Wan’s real face.

Gods, there’s something wrong with him. He should go back to Kamino and ask to be reprogrammed and put on sanitation detail where he can't hurt anyone. He should tell someone and beg for their help. He should ask Rex if he’s ever thought of –

No. He can't.

He trusts Rex, he does. He loves him. But he can’t stand the thought of Rex’s face when he finds out what Cody is dreaming about. What he’s capable of.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says again, a bit more sternly.

And Cody makes himself look, willing away the red floating in his vision. He has no idea what Obi-Wan has been saying, and really he should be more careful.

It’s not the first time he’s had the dream, but it is the first time he’s had it right next to Obi-Wan. Some terrified part deep inside whispers that Obi-Wan could sense it, could feel his intent in his dream. That would almost be a relief. Almost.

But there’s nothing in Obi-Wan’s face that suggests he knows. Obi-Wan looks rumpled from sleep, and concerned, and his eyes are clear and bright and not clouded and ruined.

He looks perfect.

Cody takes a breath. “I’m fine. Really. It was just a dream.”

Obi-Wan’s face does several things at once. His expression clears, because he understands, Cody knows he does; what they see haunts them all. And then Obi-Wan frowns, his eyes searching for something on Cody’s face, and Cody lets himself look back. Lets himself catalogue the little things; the way the firelight catches on the red in Obi-Wan’s hair, the slight crease on his cheek where it was pressed into the pillow, the way his mouth opens like he wants to say something before he stops himself.

There’s a tangled ball of feelings in Cody’s chest, and he can’t unwind them without having them all fall out. And he can’t stand the thought of the darkest ones, the ones stained in black, being exposed to the firelight.

Obi-Wan looks abruptly hurt by something, and Cody mentally panics a bit at that. Did he say something? Did he do something? No, he’s sure he didn’t. He can’t have. He has control over himself, and he would never do anything to hurt Obi-Wan. Not as long as he could help it.

He prefers to hurt the things that have hurt Obi-Wan, and so he does his best to hurt himself.

And as much as he hates that hurt look, he’s pretty sure he’s the one who caused it, which means he has to leave it alone.

“Very well, then,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m right here. If you change your mind.”

He lays back down, and faces away from Cody.

Cody watches him, skims his eyes down the prone body just to watch him breathe. He glances around the cavern, suddenly aware of just how alone they really are. Anything could happen.

If he – if he just.

No one would know. Skywalker would never know. Rex would never know. He could do _anything_. And that thought is thrilling and horrifying in equal measures.

He stays awake for a long time. And eventually he lies down again. He tells himself to face away from Obi-Wan, to lie back to back and leave him alone, but he can’t do it. Some part of him whispers that _good soldiers follow orders_ and tells him to cut himself off, but instead he lets himself be tugged close by the bit of tangled mess in his chest that trails out to connect itself to Obi-Wan. He faces Obi-Wan's back, and he’s as close as he can be without touching. So close he can feel Obi-Wan’s body heat through his robes. It’s a bit comforting, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He lets himself have it anyway.

He does take a bit of amusement from the fact that he’s so close that if Obi-Wan moves at all, he’s going to end up smacking Cody or rolling nearly on top of him. He knows that Obi-Wan won’t mind, and he won't say anything about it. He wanted to be there for Cody anyway. And it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had to sleep close to stay warm.

He reaches out one hand, wants to touch, but doesn’t have permission. He settles for tracing the air over Obi-Wan’s side.

Then he feels creepy, and puts his hand back against his own side. Rex would laugh at him for this. And Waxer would never let him live it down.

Obi-Wan shifts back slightly, and brushes back against him.

Cody tenses, and then forces himself to relax when Obi-Wan presses back more, sighing in his sleep. Or at least, Cody hopes he’s asleep, or else he might die of embarrassment. There's silence, and Obi-Wan doesn't move again. Cody makes himself relax. It isn't hard, lying together like this in the warmth of the firelight is as close as he'll come to paradise.

So Cody lets himself breathe in all the little things that make Obi-Wan unique, and he lets himself – just for a small desperate moment – _want_.

Sometimes, when he thinks he can get away with it, he thinks about Obi-Wan in ways he knows he isn’t supposed to. For a million reasons. For one, there’s the chain of command between them. For another, Obi-Wan is a Jedi, and Cody would never want to do anything to compromise that. There’s also the fact that he himself isn’t supposed to think these things at all. He’s supposed to be focused on battle, on the task at hand, on the next move, on his brothers in arms, on victory.

But sometimes the task at hand is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Cody lets his thoughts stray dangerously.

When Obi-Wan comes back battered and bruised, he’s thought about soothing bacta over the wounds himself. He’s wanted to rub tension out of his general's aching muscles, and watch Obi-Wan melt into something less uptight and stressed.

He’s watched the cracked open look on Obi-Wan’s face when they lose someone, or when Skywalker is in trouble, and he’s wanted to pull his attention away, hold him until he can pull himself back together.

He’s thought about taking Obi-Wan apart, but not in the same way as he does in his dreams.

He wants to do it with his tongue, with his fingers and his hands if they can be trusted to hold and not destroy. He wants to use his own body to do something other than hurt, he wants to be warm and comforting, and he wants to press their bodies together and feel every line of Obi-Wan’s body relax against his.

These are things he can’t have, and he wants them all the more for it.

He isn’t designed for pleasure, for softness or gentleness or love. He’s designed to kill. He was made for violence and harshness, and war has steadily made a monster of him. But he knows that if he wanted, if they would let him, he could use his edges to soften the way for others.

In his mind’s eye, he sees all the things he would do if he had the chance. He’s made a plan of attack, has strategized every move he would make, has calculated the best way to dissolve the great Obi-Wan Kenobi into a writhing mess.

But it’s not even just that, he wants _everything_.

He wants to watch Obi-Wan’s face light up, and he wants that flirty smirk turned his way, he wants that small fond smile directed at him – he wants Obi-Wan to think about him with all the love and care he has for Skywalker and more.

He wants so much more.

He wants to watch his mouth drop open on sounds that he imagines are like the ones he makes on the battlefield only softer. He wants to press his mouth everywhere and make Obi-Wan cry with pleasure instead of pain. He wants to map his body with the express purpose of finding pleasure points instead of weak spots and injuries.

He wants to make Obi-Wan lie back and take it, to give him a break from constantly having to work for everything. He wants the spread of Obi-Wan’s thighs around his hips, he wants them around his face and he wants Obi-Wan’s fingers in his hair. He wants to make them into one, to slot himself deep inside where no one can tear them apart, and he wants to make Obi-Wan feel amazing. He wants to make a mess of Obi-Wan, and he wants Obi-Wan to _want_ it.

Sometimes, he lets himself think about that. If they could turn their backs on all this. Or maybe wait until after the war. If they could have some stupid happily ever after. But that vision is always at odds with the blood-soaked wreck of his dreams.

Both visions taunt him, and some days he hates them in equal measure, even if only because he can’t ever have the one he wants.

He knows he can't have it all. So he tells himself one night would be enough. And he lets himself think about that. He wouldn't waste it, he'd treasure every moment and every inch of skin.

Yes, one night would be enough.

And oh, what he wouldn’t give, what he wouldn’t dare, just to have that one night. One perfect night where they weren’t clone and Jedi, or Marshal Commander and High Jedi General.

There’s a burning jealousy in his chest for the people he sees milling about Coruscant; all the happy couples holding hands in public and being _allowed_ to do so, never knowing what people like Cody have to do to keep them safe. What he has become for them.

But if he just had one night, it would be worth it.

He could do anything, face anything if he just had the memory of one night to keep him warm and safe. Just one, and he wouldn’t resent his lot. He would gladly die on the battlefield. Or he would linger as long as the Republic had a use for him, maybe training new recruits, until they cast him aside.

It wouldn't matter. He wouldn’t despair for the long, achingly alone path laid out before him.

He would be content with one night.

Was it really so much to ask for?

He always asks for too much.

So instead, he just tucks away the little moments, and keeps them close. He hopes someday that he can think back to them and treasure them just the same, but, as Obi-Wan is so fond of saying, he has a bad feeling about that.

He tries to settle himself into sleep.

Obi-Wan is right there, pressed against him and trusting him unconsciously. There’s no one to judge them for it.

He lets himself have the moment.

He’ll save it for a rainy day when they’re split up on the battlefield and he misses the steady presence beside him.

He’ll save it for the day he can’t make himself look down at the mess beneath his fists.

He’ll shut his eyes, and he’ll think of this instead.


End file.
